Introverted Mobility

     

(Photo Credit: Unknown Photographer Creative Commons stock photo)

(Note: I would like to dedicate this to a certain individual who pushed me to write this, as it is now, Tucker McCallahan as well as all of those who...)

Jeremy

well as all of those who...)

     Maybe it was the glossed over expression in the eyes, or the unnatural twitch emanating from the corners of his mouth, but whatever the cause, the look on Jeremy's face was disturbing beyond anything I had ever witnessed. His skin was waxy, as if he'd been splashed with cooking oil. His eyes were wide, jaundiced, and protruding slightly from the sockets. His mouth was stuck in the form of a smile through clenched teeth, as if he'd been frozen in the pose for an awkward family photo, but was unable to change the expression. Though a cursory glance would have suggested happiness, but because you couldn't help but stare for longer, even after a few seconds the terror screamed from within him.

     He was sitting in his chair, arms stuck down and along the length, back straightened, and hands in the midst of a death grip. His clothes; a flannel shirt and blue jeans, were drenched in sweat.

     "Jeremy, wake up!" I said; slapping him hard a cross the face. He didn't budge.” This ain't funny man; snap out of it, Jeremy. Jeremy!"

     I grabbed him by the shoulders and tried to shake him, push him backwards, and pull him towards me. He didn't budge. I grabbed his arm and tugged as hard as I could, he was planted like a street lamp in concrete. I tried to slide him out of the chair by pulling on his feet, but as I was pulling with all my might and throwing all my weight into the effort I fell backwards, I lost my grip. Nothing, no effect at all, he hadn't moved and inch; his chair hadn't moved an inch. I sat there on the ground, could this really be happening? What was going on inside him I couldn't say, I'd never seen anything like this, and I don't know if anyone had.

     Grabbing his phone from the little table I started going through the contacts list, wondering; had he gone through fits like this before? I hit end and dialed nine, one, and one, and then hung up before it even rang once. Did I need an ambulance? What would they do? I thought about it for a second and realized that I needed to do something. Whatever was going on with Jeremy wasn't normal, and I definitely needed help, and I was afraid for his life. So I reached for the phone once more, put the receiver to my ear and pressed my sweaty fingers on the call button and hit send.

     "Akron nine-one-one, what is the nature of your emergency?" The monotone woman's voice rang from the other side.

     "It's my friend Jeremy, He won't move, and I can't get him up, it's like...”

     "Sir, was there some kind of accident?"

     "No I just went to the restroom and when I came out he was sitting there, smiling, and he won't move."

     "Does your friend have any medical conditions?"

     "No, not that I know of, but he..."

     "Did he ingest anything, take any substances?"

     "No, not that I know of, I mean we...” I paused, I knew I should mention the joint but I was fine, so I thought better of it. "We were just hanging out, he had some soda, and we ate some pizza, but I had the same stuff and I'm fine."

     "Okay sir; tell me exactly what happened, and what’s going on."

     "Well, everything was fine, we were watching a movie, had some pizza delivered, I went to the restroom, and when I came out he was stuck in his chair and now I can't move him."

     "Is he breathing? Is his pulse erratic? What can you tell me about his condition? I can relay the information to the E.M.T.'s."

     "He's breathing, I think, yeah he's breathing." I said after holding my hand under his nose. I put my hand on his neck, like they do on movies and T.V., "I'm pretty sure he's got a pulse, I mean, he's breathing."

     "Do you see any outside trauma? Is he bleeding from anywhere?"

     "No, but he's sweating an awful lot."

     "Sir you're telling me that your friend is breathing, his pulse is stable, he's showing no outward signs of trauma, but he won't move and he's smiling? I think your friend is just messing with you. This is an emergency line, for people who are in life and death situations, unless your friend stops breathing, his heart stops, or he's loosing blood there isn't any immediate concern. I recommend you take him to his primary care physician. Calling nine-one-one for non emergencies is a crime; you really should only call here if a life is in imminent danger." Then she hung up.

     "What now! Uhgg!" My frustration was growing.

     I knew he wasn't playing a prank, but unless I could convince her she wasn't going to do anything about it. What could they do about it? I couldn't even budge him. Maybe his parents knew something. I scrolled through the contacts again until I found 'Dad'.

     "Hello."

     "Mr. Krembury,”

     "Rodney?"

     "Yes, listen, it's Jeremy, he's sort of in some kind of trance or something,"

     "Did you hit him to knock him out of it; you know that boy has some problems."

     "Yes, I slapped him,"

     "Let me guess you gave him a little pussy slap, you gotta hit him boy."

     "No it wasn't a pussy slap,"

     "Well what did you call me for?"

     "I don't know, but I think you and Mrs. Krembury should come over."

     "Alright, I'll get him to snap out of it. We’ll be there in about an hour, this better not be some joke or trick, if I get over there and he's fine he won’t be the only one to worry."

     "Okay, it's not so I'll see you then."

     He hung up. I scrolled through his contacts again; Alex C., no good he's not even in Ohio, and he's still pissed about the Jean thing. Oh, Jean, yeah she'll know what to do. I tap on the image of her face, lucky unlucky bastard.

     "Hello Jean?

     "Yes? Who's this, Rodney?"

     "Yes this Is Rodney, I'm over here at Jeremy's place."

     "Yeah, and what else is new, Why do you think I'm never there?"

      "Yes well, the thing is, is that Jeremy has had some kind of fit, and he can't... Jean? Are you there Jean?"

     She hung up. Damn, I thought that maybe I should avoid people who actively wish painful acts upon him. I started to search for people who didn't want Jeremy dead; aunt Tina, AutoZone, babe, Becca, bill, Bradley, Brandon, Brian, Chris, Chris lost, Chris 3, Christopher, cousin, I kept scrolling down the list and started to realize how little like a contacts list this was and how it began to resemble a list of suspects in the future death of my friend, well acquaintance, I just really had no where else I had to be most of the time and Jeremy lived next door. That's when I saw that beautiful name, a name that belonged to someone I had almost forgotten existed, who definitely didn't have an angry bone in her body.

     "Meg, hey do you remember me, Rodney?

     "That goofy guy always over at Jeremy's place? What do you want?"

     "Yeah the goofy guy that Jeremy knows, well that's the thing really, it's Jeremy, he sort of, well he had something happen to him."

     "Let me guess you two assholes tried something you shouldn't have and now he's fucked up and so you called me to see if I can get you out of it? What was it? Moon-pods? Don't tell me you two dumb asses tried those bath salts they've been going around."

     "No nothing like that, you just have to see it, he's immobile and I can't move him at all, it's freaky.

     "This is too good, I'll be over. Hey Jen you wanna see Jeremy all fucked up on something?" 

     "You don't have to be so excited."

     She hung up.

     Then I called the news station.

     "WVNB Channel 5, where can I direct your call?" A sweet sounding voice sang.

     "Yes I have something to report? Who do I talk to?

     "Why yes, one moment."

     "Junior analyst Jenkins, what've you got?"

     "It's my neighbor, he's, uh...” quick, think quick.”... always been kind-of, you know, out of it." Shit, what now, oh yeah I think I got it. " I keep seeing him go to the window, he's wearing nothing but his underwear and uh, I think he's got a gun, I can't really make it out but there's definitely something in his hand, oh wait he's at the window again, yup that's definitely a gun. Oh shit, I think he's got someone in there with him."

     "Okay where's this at, numbers man, address, quickly."

     "653 Pengrove circle; in Highland Square."

     He hung up, no goodbye no thank you, nothing.

I kept poking my head out of the window, waiting. Someone had to show, anybody, and I needed help, I couldn't handle this on my own. Then the cars started arriving. A little blue nineteen-seventy bug pulled up, Jeremy's dad rolled out, looking pissed. He walked up the path to the door, which I already had opened for him.

     "Where is he, I'm going to kill that boy if he's playing another one of his pranks."

     "Right over here." I showed him to Jeremy, his condition unchanged.

 Mr. Krembury walked over to his son.

     "Boy, get the fuck up! Your mother is in a state; she couldn't even come because she thought you were hurt, now get up and give her a call. I'm not going to tell you again." Then he struck him, hard, real hard, right across the face, fist closed. Mr. Krembury pulled back; Jeremy hadn't flinched, moved, or otherwise been aware that he'd been hit. Just the terrified expression in his eyes; his sweaty skin, there was no change from earlier. Mr. Krembury's hand was red, like he'd punched a steel wall, rubbing his knuckles, he looked at me and for the first time since I ever met him, and he looked scarred.

     "He didn't even budge." his voice was a little shaky.

 He went to the back of the chair and tried to tip it down, but the chair wouldn't move.

     "I tried that already, that chair won't move no matter what you do."

     "You just weren't trying hard enough."

     "Weren't trying hard enough to do what?" Jen, Meg's friend, and my ex said from behind us.

 I turned around and caught a glimpse of her and Meg standing in the entry way, staring at me and Mr. Krembury. Meg had a huge grin on her face, and Jen was scowling at me.

     "What'd you bring her for?"

     "Like I was going to make her miss this. You two getting into trouble again. Classic."

     "Hey, we didn't do anything, I just came over we were watching some stuff, I went to the bathroom, and when I came out I found him like this."

     "You mean you came over, the two of you were getting high, and at some point you noticed he wasn't moving?"

     "What'd you give my boy?" Mr. K grabbed hold of me.

     "Nothing! Like you ever cared what he did before anyway."

 He let go.

     Meg walked into Jeremy's little kitchen, a pitiful place, dirty dishes stacked high in the sink, pizza boxes on the table, pieces torn off of them to use as plates after the real ones were too dirty to use. Flies were zipping around, floating past those disgusting fly paper traps he'd hung from the ceiling. She grabbed a rag and sifted through the sink, searching, moving dishes over from side to side until she found what she was looking for; a very nasty looking fork.

     "A-ha, this'll do nicely."

     She walked over to Jeremy, nudging Mr. K aside; she crouched down and looked right into his eyes, holding the fork up, the crusty food debris of some unknown origin stuck to its surface.

     "Okay Jeremy, if you can hear me you better listen carefully. I'm going to take this fork and stab you in the leg with it; if you don't get up I'm going to stab you again. You know I'll do this; I've wanted to do this for a long time, so if you don't want to get stabbed by this disgusting fork, get up now. Okay, three...two...one..." With no hesitation she grabbed the handle of the fork and brought its teeth down on his leg. The teeth didn't bite into his flesh, instead they bent, her hand slipped down the handle and she stabbed herself in the side of her palm. Meg screamed, and started to bleed. Jeremy didn't budge, he didn't move.

     "Fuck!"

     "Go grab a rag or something." Jen screamed at me, "Now!" I rushed away as Jen started to pull the fork free.

     Mr. K came up to me and tried to help find a clean rag.

     "Hurry up!" Meg yelled

     "What's going on?" Mr. K said

     "I don't know." I whispered back.

     We found a rag, it wasn't clean, but it'd have to do. We rushed back over to Meg and pressed the rag onto her hand.

     And that's when Sean showed up.

     "What the fuck is going on here?" He said

     "Jeremy's, well....you try to move him and you'll see." I said holding a rag against Meg's hand as it started to sop up her blood, changing from yellowish white to red.

     Sean was trying to lift the chair, he tried to grab Jeremy's hair, but he couldn't even get his fingers to go through his locks let alone do anything to them.

     "What the fuck!"

     "See?" I said.

     "When Jean said something was up with Jeremy she didn't say shit about this. What the fuck is going on?"

     "We don't know he's been like that for a few hours now." I explained.

     "So nothing can move him?"

     "Or the chair, yeah."

     "Did you call for an ambulance?"

     "That's the first thing I did when I realized I couldn't move him, then I called around."

     "So what're we gonna do?"

     "I don't know I was hoping maybe you all would have some ideas."

     "I've got one." Jen said. "I'll be right back." Jen disappeared, and then returned a few minutes later holding a little red gas can in one hand and a newspaper in the other. "Go open a window."

     "No, no, no. Don't even think about it."

     "Why not, Meg tried to jam a fork in his leg, no one said anything about that, and it didn't do any thing. This probably won’t even work."

     "Yeah, maybe. But you could catch the whole house on fire, and I'm not trying to die. Or have Jeremy killed in the process. Besides we have no clue what’s going on, what if whatever's keeping him this way does stop, do you really want to kill Jeremy?"

     "No, but I don't think if I catch this paper on fire and put it in his lap that it'll catch the house on fire either, I just want to see if maybe heat will have any effect on him. We can get a bucket of water to put the fire out too."

     "Just don't use the gas, and don't just set it on him, maybe by his leg or something. Water doesn't put out gas it'll only make it spread and I'm not trying to deal with a gas fire, plus he's breathing, what if he chokes from the smoke? It's not like we can give him CPR, does anyone here even know how to do CPR?"

     "I do, but let’s just get a fan or something to blow the smoke away. Or better yet, why don't we just boil some water? Wouldn't that just eliminate the need for fire and smoke and still see if heat would work on him?"

     "You are all out of your minds. You're all talking about burning my son, aren't you suppose to be his friends?"

     "He's your son and you punched him and bruised your hand. Don't tell me you're concerned about hurting him now?"

     "A punch isn't going to permanently scar my son; you're talking about doing stuff to maim him. Back off!" he shouted as Meg was going for the kitchen. "Don't you dare, you already tried to stab my boy, and I won't let you burn him."

     "Well what do you suggest Mr. K?"

     "Jean, when'd you get here?" Sean asked.

     "Right after Jen came in with the gas. So Jeremy won't move huh?"

     "Yeah, he's...stuck, see." I motioned to Jeremy.” Nothing seems to do anything."

     "Well, have you all tried maybe getting a rope or something, why don't we all work together and try to pull him out?"

     "Do you have a rope? Because I don't."

     "Go grab his bed sheets and blankets, we can make a rope, then we'll all pull together."

 Mr. K and Meg went to Jeremy's bedroom, grabbing his bedding, which he never washes. Jen walked into the kitchen. When Mr.K and Meg returned Sean, Jean, and I started to grab the sheets, we began to cut them with a knife, and stretch them out, knotting them together and pulling at them to test their durability. After we were satisfied we wrapped them around him a few times and tied one end securely around Jeremy. Pulling hard against the impromptu rope, sure of its strength, we all lined up, Mr. K right in front, followed by Jean, Sean, Meg, Me, and finally Jen. Just as we were about to pull;

     "What’s going on?"

     "Fuck George, scarred the shit out of me." I confessed.

     "Well?"

     "Jeremy's stuck, we can’t move him so we're going to try and pull him out of the chair, get over here, grab the rope and help."

     "Have you tried...?”

     "Yes, whatever you're about to say yes, we've tried it all, that's why we're trying this."

     "Okay, well fuck it, let’s do this."

     We all got ready once again and started to pull, and pull. The rope made of sheets started to rip, and as we were putting all of our weight into it the fabric gave way; we all fell on our collective asses, each person groaning as the person in front of them landed in their lap. George got the worst of it, but that's what he got for being the last to arrive.

     "Shit, get off me!"

     "What the fuck!"

     "Are you kidding me?"

     "This is fucking ridiculous, seriously!"

     "Ugh!"

     The collective groans, moans, and expletive remarks all flew, seemingly, at the same time. We couldn't believe it.

     "I don't believe this!" Meg said

     Jeremy hadn't moved an inch, nothing about him changed at all, and all of us were nearly out of ideas. As we were all getting to our feet I noticed Jen coming out of the kitchen; the steam off of the pot in her hand made it obvious what she was carrying, but I wasn't quick enough to get to her, or brave enough to tangle with my ex when she had a pot full of boiling water in her hand. She poured the water on his lap. The water seemed to run off of him, onto the ground, his clothes were left completely dry; pointless.

     "You little bitch! I told you to stay away from my son."

     "Fuck you old man, it didn't matter anyway.

     Knock, knock, and knock. That's when I heard it, the rapping on the screen door. I peeked out the window and saw the news van, the decal; WVNB Channel 5 Action News.

     I darted to the door, a man, dressed in a blue blazer, salmon colored tie, and khaki pants. His hair was combed back and he was mildly balding. His slightly chubby features made his face more full, and would have made him appear more happy, but his eyes were cold, and his narrowed eyes forced his face into an almost perpetual scowl, even as he was smiling when he said,

     "Hello, I am Roger Fullers, reporter for WVNB, am I in the right place? My analyst told me that there was a situation here, did I get the wrong address, or am I arriving late to the party?"

     "No, you're right on time. I'm Rodney. Come on in." I said, holding the door open for him.  

     He turned and motioned for his camera man to come forward, and walked in to the scene of Jeremy's dilapidated house, clothes and dirty plates, furniture covered in blankets, and the five other people removing the rope from around Jeremy who was sitting in his chair. The same expression on his face that he wore all day, terror masked with a smile.

     "This is Jeremy; the nine-one-one operator wouldn't send an ambulance, so I called you guys."

     "What's going on here?"

     "Well my friend has been stuck like this all day, nothing we do can affect or move him in any way. Go on, give it a try."

      I motioned to the chair, I hadn't realized it but I was starting to hate that chair. Roger walked on over to Jeremy and gave him a small push, when he didn't even seem to have any effect, he pushed again, this time harder. Still nothing. Roger looked back to me a little smile on his face. He took off his blazer, rolled up the sleeves on his shirt, crouched down and grabbed the bottom of the chair, he started to try and lift with all of his might. Jeremy wasn't very large, in fact he was pretty slender, and most people thought he could put on a few pounds, Roger expected, I think, that he would be able to flip the chair with ease. When he strained until his legs and back began to hurt he stopped, stood up again and the grin on his face got even larger.

     "This is for real."

     "Yup, watch this. Meg, go for it." I said holding out my arm towards Jeremy.

     Meg walked over to the door pushed it closed and came over to Jeremy holding an aluminum bat that he kept behind his door for protection.

     "Hold on!" Roger and Mr. K said at the same time.

     "Mr. Krembury, you know it won’t matter. Roger, just watch. Go on Meg."

     And she did, she planted her feet, adjusted her grip, measured her swing, right to his face, and swung the bat as hard as she could. The bat made a loud crack, she dropped it. Roger picked up the bat and his grin couldn't get any wider, there was a dent in it.

     "Can we do that on film?"

     "Sure, as long as someone sees this and maybe they know what we can do. I'm all out of ideas man."

     "We'll be set up in about ten minutes. Henry set up here in the living room. I'm going to call the network. They’re going to want to see this. Can you folks make some room over here; maybe push that couch out of the way?"

     He walked back towards the door and pulled out his phone. George helped me pick up the couch and move it to the back hall way. Henry began setting up his tripod, and started adjusting his lens, going back and forth between the curtains and his camera. Mr. K went outside; he sat on the front porch with his head in his hands. Meg and Jen stood in the corner, talking quietly with one another. Sean and Jean went into the back room, and George went to the kitchen, pulled a beer from the fridge and sat on the only stool in there.

     "Is there anything I can help with?"

     "No, I'll be done here in a minute."

     Roger came back in.

     "We're on. You all set Henry?"

     "Just about."

     Roger walked right over to Jeremy, his sleeves still rolled up, crouching down he looked him right in the eyes. I couldn't help but think of Meg from earlier.

     "Alright Jeremy, you're on the precipice of your life here, this is your Everest moment, you're about to be famous."

     The only thing he didn't add was 'whether you like it or not', because in reality, he really didn't have a choice. As Roger got up he grabbed the bat, walked over to me and put the bat in my hands.

     "Get ready, when I say, give him another swing."

     He walked over to Henry and whispered in his ear, then grabbed his mic and checked himself in the small mirror Henry had attached to the end of the camera. He adjusted his tie, brushed his hair back with his hands, and checked his teeth. As he positioned himself, and Henry gave him the thumbs up, he put the mic to his face and began,

     "This is Roger Fullers here, Channel five action news, reporting from Highland Square. Behind me is Jeremy Krembury, an Akron local who a local nine-one-one operator wouldn't send an ambulance to help. Jeremy has been in a, well, you won't believe me unless you see it for yourself. I didn't. What you're about to see is very graphic, parents may want to send children out of the room, Rodney if you would."

     He moved to the side to show the stark image of Jeremy, sitting in the chair behind him, I came into the view of the camera and swung the bat right at Jeremy's head, the bat made another loud crack, I hit him with the bat at the same place Meg did, the bat bent. Roger came over and grabbed the bat from me taking it up to the camera.

     "This is an aluminum bat, and as you can see, it's clearly been bent."

     Henry grabbed the camera from the tripod as Roger motioned him forward and brought it right in front of Jeremy's face. The stark expression on Jeremy's face, highlighted by the light from the camera, was more than enough to detail the severity of the situation.

     "As you can see there isn't a mark on him, not a scratch, scrape, cut, burn, or bruise. And these folks have tried everything to move him. Rodney Mercer, Jeremy's best friend was the one who found him. Tell us Rodney, what events led up to this catatonic state you found him in?"

     "Ah, well, I came over earlier, and Jeremy was just watching some television. Just a normal day you know", damn these lights are bright, I couldn't help but think as the sweat began to pour from my brow. "I came over, we started to play some video games, Warfield five just came out the other day, so we were doing some multi player, we ordered some pizza, now Jeremy usually has a larger appetite, but he barely ate any of the food, then later as I went to the restroom, when I came out he was stuck like this. Nothing to be done, tried knocking him over, pushing him, shaking, couldn't lift the chair or nothing. After some of our friends arrived they'd each tried different things, nothing seems to have any effect on him, and I'm, you know, worried. What if he doesn't snap out of it? Is Jeremy gonna be stuck like this? Does any one out there know what’s going on? Have you seen this before?"

     "Thank you Rodney." Roger motioned me away with a pat on my shoulder and a gentle, but forceful shove. "This is Roger Fullers here, and I will be here to keep the public informed of events as this local family's crisis unfolds. Cut it, wrap that up, Henry, get that reel ready for air and send it via satellite to the station. We've got more work to do, now get going."

     "Thanks.”

     "Don't mention it. Once the public sees that I'm sure they'll be clamoring for the police or city officials to do something, Jeremy will be fine, I'm sure of it." Roger was full of it.

     After a moment, which Roger spent pacing in awkward silence; he reached for the door, and ventured outside making a bee line for the van. So much for staying with the family the whole time. You could hear Sean and Jean in the bedroom, not particularly loud, but being in the quiet that defined quiet every sound became magnified. At some point I didn't notice Meg and Jen had left. Whether they just stepped outside or if they just went into another room I wasn't sure. I remember feeling like I was missing something, as if there was something that I should be remembering. What was it? Damn that was going to bug the shit out of me. George started to walk in from the kitchen. Why can’t I remember what it was, the single idea, which is by this point constantly running through my mind, as if I am completely consumed with the notion of a misplaced memory. George walked over to Jeremy then. If only I could remember what it was I was forgetting then maybe I would be able to think about something else. Ah wait! Yes I remember now, it had something to do with George, but what? I looked over at Jeremy, George standing over him with his arm raised. Fuck, I remembered now, how could I have been so stupid?

     "Fuck you, you piece of shit!" George screamed into Jeremy's face, before his finger tugged on the trigger of the gun he held in his right hand.

     Jeremy had once slept with George's fiancée, on the night of their wedding, and they got walked in on my George's mom, and that is why George vowed to kill Jeremy the next time he saw him.

     Mr. K darted through the door, began to rush full speed into George, taking him to the ground in one swift, violent, move. The gun fell from his hand but not before going off one more time, right through the back wall.

     "Fuck!" You could hear from the back room.

     I rushed into the back hallway, and before I could take another step I saw Sean collapsed on top of Jean, the red splattered walls  at the head of the bed, and the silent scream that was stuck on Jean's face told me all that I needed to know. That fucking idiot.

     I walked back into the other room where I found Mr. K holding the upturned George, his chest soaked in his own blood, the pale face of a man at rest; stupid bastard caught the ricochet from Jeremy. What a fucking day.

     "I knew that wasn't going to take long." Mr. Krembury stated flatly.

     "Yup."

     The police showed up about twenty minutes later.

     "There've been reports of gun fire in the area."

     "Yes officer, come on in, they’re over here."

     I led them over to the living area, Jeremy on his untouched chair, sweat and fear rolling off of him like some exotic perfume, but still unable to move. George lay dead on the ground, his blood covering a large section of the shag carpet, or at least what little carpet you could see. The hole in the wall behind them was obvious; the police officer stepped back around the blood, careful not to step in any of it. He found the gun on the other side of the chair, holding his gun on Jeremy the whole time. He motioned to his partner to head in the next room, as more cops came inside, one directing us all out of the house. I wasn't even allowed to grab anything.

     "All of us were quarantined, in a small tent set up on the side of the road, an ambulance was called, and the E.M.T.'s went right inside, and that was the last time I saw them. That was the last time I saw any of them really. What went on inside your house, over the next few months, I never found out. I don't think anyone who wasn't there will ever rightly know. What I do know is that after three months of complete quarantine the police, CDC, and other government types in suits, all eventually had learned all they were going to be able to learn. Regardless of what they did in there when I was able to return you were still untouched. Still, just as sweaty, waxy, and terrified. You didn't really smell anymore, the house was immaculate when I got back, everything was clean, and everything was in its rightful place. For a time I visited every day. Then I would only stop by once a week or so, and then I was down to once a month. After the first year I only came on the anniversary of the event. I went through college, and graduate school, becoming a physician along the way. I tried to use my education to solve your case, but I've never been successful. I started a family some time back, a beautiful wife, you remember Meg right? Well we had three kids, two boys and a girl. My oldest son I named Jeremy, but now I'm eighty years old. My wife and friends are all dead, I lost two sons in the last war, my daughter has grandchildren now, my practice was sold years ago, and after all this time I am about to die myself my old friend. I haven't given up until now, but it's time I move on. I often wonder what it is that you're thinking in there. If you can think, or feel. I hope you're not aware of all this time that's passed. That would be horrifying. In a way I understand now better than I ever did before. The look you've worn for so many years, it isn't terror is it?"

     And Jeremy wanted to scream, but he gave up on all of that a long time ago, the only thing he felt, for as long as he can now remember was hopelessness.

     To this day we find Jeremy stuffed in his chair, not moving, with a look of terror perpetually on his face, hidden behind a smile. The last person to speak to him was his friend Rodney, and the last thing he ever said was

     "There's always hope."